


The Adventure Of The Hammerford Inheritance

by Cerdic519



Series: Further Adventures Of Mr. Sherlock Holmes [18]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Some Will Some Won't (1970)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, F/M, Inheritance, Justice, M/M, Scheming Sherlock, Untold Cases of Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 14:00:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15002384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerdic519/pseuds/Cerdic519
Summary: Four people are shocked to find that they have to meet some strange conditions to inherit their 'rightful' share of a relative's wealth – so Sherlock makes sure they get what is coming to them!





	The Adventure Of The Hammerford Inheritance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tipsylex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tipsylex/gifts).



_Introduction by Sir Sherrinford Holmes, Baronet_

'Eighty-Three saw another of my brother's cases that made the original Sherlock canon; _The Adventure Of The Speckled Band_. It was a dark case, so it seems rather ironic that although we found details of several other cases from that year, only the one that was its exact counterpoint can be included in this supplementary set of works. Mr. Fitzwilliam Damery, a lawyer whom Sherlock later had cause to reference, first brought him this case in which my brother helped people get exactly what they deserved – but possibly not what said people _thought_ that they deserved!

Note: Some versions of this story incorrectly referred to the lawyer as Mr. D'Amory. That was the alternate spelling of his name adopted by his equally renowned younger brother George, but not he himself.

۩۩۩۩V♔RI۩۩۩۩

_Narration by Doctor John Hamish Watson, M.D._

Mr. Fitzwilliam Damery was, I knew, one of the rising stars of the Bar. He it was who had secured a conviction against the slippery Mr. Felix Jackson, one of far too many financial 'wizards' whose transactions in the City had bordered on the illegal. The rogue trader had been widely thought of as untouchable, so for Mr. Damery to have taken him down had been a huge feather in his metaphorical cap. 

I did not of course know Mr. Damery myself. Holmes had said that he was an acquaintance of his brother Mycroft and, considering my room-mate's general dislike of the human species, for him to say anything positive about someone meant that that person had to be worthy of note. So when the young (he was in his early thirties then) lawyer called on us that fine summer's day, I was curious to see just what brought him to Baker Street.

It was indeed very curious!

۩۩۩۩V♔RI۩۩۩۩

“Thank you for agreeing to see me, Mr. Holmes”, the young lawyer said courteously. “Your brother Mycroft said that you sometimes assist in certain matters that are a little beyond the Pale, and I find myself presented with something that most definitely fits that description.”

“I am most intrigued”, Holmes said. “Say on.”

“I am the family lawyer for the Hammerford family”, our visitor began. “You may or may not have read of the passing last week of Lady Guinevere Hammerford, widow of the late Sir Julius. He himself died some thirteen years back, and had left what seemed at the time to be a moderately straight-forward last will and testament. However, on Lady Guinevere's death I followed the instructions left to my firm and opened the implementation instructions for the final distribution of the Hammerford estate – whereupon I found myself with something of a problem.”

“I did not of course know the late Sir Julius myself; my father managed the Hammerford affairs until a minor stroke last year compelled him to retire and it all passed to me. Sir Julius left a most peculiar will and the four beneficiaries – if indeed they are beneficiaries – are far from happy.”

“It sounds intriguing”, Holmes said, “but I do not see where you require the services of either a consulting detective or a doctor, sir.”

“I shall tell you the contents of the will and you will see soon enough”, the lawyer said. “The four people I shall describe shortly, but they all expected, perhaps not unreasonably, that after the usual small bequests to servants and such, that they would share the reside of the estate. And Sir Julius did indeed leave them just that – except he also threw in some rather curious conditions of inheritance. Furthermore they have to meet those conditions within a period of three months from the reading of the will, which happened directly after Lady Guinevere's funeral yesterday.”

“One moment”, Holmes said. “The Hammerfords are well known for being amongst the richest members of our so-called high society. How much money are we talking here?”

I could see why he had asked the question. If any of the recipients failed to meet their conditions – whether through their own actions or those of a rival – then the other candidates might increase their holdings somewhat or, in a best-case scenario, scoop the whole pool. Our guest duly gave us a figure and I drew in a sharp breath.

“So to the potential beneficiaries”, Mr. Damery said. “Naturally when I took over the Hammerford affairs I made a point of acquiring a basic knowledge of the four of them; one needs to be aware if anyone is likely to prove 'difficult', as relatives are so often wont to be. I shall start with Mrs. Eleanor Crossley, Sir Juilus' younger sister, commonly called Nell. She has never done a day's work in her life and she was always complaining that her brother never gave her a large enough allowance. In order to qualify for her part of the estate, she has to acquire and maintain paid employment for a consecutive period of some twenty-eight days. As with all the stipulations, the task mst have been completed successfully within three months of the reading of the will.”

I winced. From some of my richer and socially less useful clients, I knew the sort of person who our guest was describing and one might as well have asked them to build a rocket and go to collect some moon dust.

“Sir Julius had only one sibling”, the lawyer continued, “a brother called Augustus. The only surprising thing about him was that he did not drink himself to death at a younger age; how he lasted until a few short months before his brother the Good Lord alone knew. Augustus Hammerford did not marry but he did have a son from an affair he conducted where the lady died in childbirth, and he had accepted and raised this Arthur as his own. The boy – he is now twenty-five so I suppose that I should not call him that - has taken all this very badly as he is the only remaining Hammerford by name, albeit an adopted one. He was always very vocal in his disapproval of my father-in-law's occasionally whimsical sense of humour, and Sir Julius alighted upon something quite cruel for him. Arthur has to appear on the front page of the _“Times”_ newspaper in some non-criminal capacity.”

“That does not sound so bad”, I said. Our guest smiled.

“It mighty not have been”, he said, “except that it has to be for the playing of a practical joke on some person on considerable social standing. Furthermore he must not end up in gaol as a result. That is a fine line.”

I felt that I was beginning to quite like the late Sir Julius. Although I was glad not to have been on the receiving end of his 'whimsy' myself, whatever sum was on offer.

“Sir Julius had two daughters with Lady Guinevere, Urania and Terpsichore”, Mr. Damery continued. “Unusual names seem to predominate in the family, for some reason. Urania died eight years before her father, two years after marrying an American called Mr. Danforth Rotherby. Sir Julius disliked him intensely, and did not hide his enjoyment when he almost immediately followed his wife into the hereafter, having been shot for being in bed with another man's wife – on the day of Lady Urania's funeral!”

I winced.

“They left one son, a boy called Daniel”, our guest continued. “I am hardly selling the family well, but he is inveterately fond of the sound of his own voice and always telling everyone what they should do. Sir Julius was particularly inventive when it came to the grandson who was always telling him how to live his life 'properly'.”

I leant forward in anticipation.

“He has to join a Trappist order of monks”, Mr. Damery grinned, “and remain silent for a period of twenty-eight days. His Father Abbot is to monitor him, and should he talk at all his clock is immediately reset to zero. Again, he has to manage that whole four-week period of silence within the next three months.”

Now I _really_ liked the late Sir Julius!

“The other daughter, Terpsichore, married twice”, the lawyer said. “She really was a very unpleasant woman and her first husband, a Mr. Woodman, sought a divorce within three months on the grounds of irreconcilable differences. Sir Julius annoyed his daughter greatly by promptly settling a generous sum on his former son-in-law. She remarried to Sir George Lewis and they had one son, also George; his parents died in the Wennington railway accident three years back.”

“What was the son's task?” I asked eagerly. The man grinned.

“This most righteous of men has to commit an actual crime that will see him locked in a prison cell for at least four weeks”, he said. “But he cannot still be in gaol when the time for all these tasks elapses. It is all quite unique, gentlemen. I have to get a man _into_ gaol rather than keep him _out_ of it. Any suggestions?”

۩۩۩۩V♔RI۩۩۩۩

“I have to say”, Holmes said later, once our guest had gone, “that this is a most unusual case. As Mr. Damery said, most of my work involves keeping people out of gaol. I think this may be the first time that a client has requested to be got into one!”

“He needs to commit a crime”, I mused, “but not something so serious that it would result in his being incarcerated for a long period of time.”

“There is another variable to consider”, Holmes said. “The length of sentence will depend to some extend on who takes the trial, what they term the 'what the judge had for breakfast' factor. That and the character of the judge could mean the difference between too small a sentence and too lengthy a one. I wonder....”

“What are you plotting?” I asked. 

“You will soon see!” he promised.

I scowled.

۩۩۩۩V♔RI۩۩۩۩

Sir George Lewis who was currently visiting away in Derbyshire was due to attend us that Friday. By the time he arrived however one of his rivals had already achieved their goal. Young Arthur Hammerford had made the front page of the _“Times”_ by the clever expedient of climbing up on the statue of the old Duke of Wellington at Hyde Park Corner and planting a French tricolour in his hand (I had to applaud his ingenuity; the will had not stated that the great figure had to be a _living_ one). The authorities were not pleased but, as he had apparently been 'in his cups' at the time, he was let off with a fine.

Our visitor was most worried.

“Cousin Arthur will get part of the estate now”, he said sourly. “I still have hopes that Nell will not find employment anywhere as I cannot imagine anyone being that desperate, and I am certain that Danny cannot shut up for twenty-eight minutes let alone twenty-eight days! Then again I did not imagine Arthur being smart enough to get onto the front page of the _“Times”_ , damn him!”

“We must set about getting you in gaol”, Holmes said, and I was sure that that must have been the first time that I ever hear him utter those words. “I have checked the roster and I see that the aptly named Judge Justice is on the bench for the next two weeks. He is renowned for passing the stiffest sentences possible.”

“That is a _good_ thing?” Sir George asked, looking askance at my friend.

“Because it means that you can commit a relatively minor offence and be sure of a month inside so that you can claim your inheritance”, Holmes said reasonably. “We do not wish to risk you still being in gaol at the deadline, do we? I therefore suggest that you fling a custard pie in the face of Mr. Paul Rainham-Woods when he leaves his house in the Strand. Monday next week would probably be best.”

“Why him?” our visitor asked.

“Because his wife is Judge Justice's elder daughter Pandora, so he will _not_ be pleased”, Holmes explained. “I have some back-up plans in case, especially as we have less than two months before you lose everything.”

“But what reason would I have for doing it?” the man asked.

I could think of a certain number of reasons under columns labelled '£', 's' and 'd', but I kept quiet.

“Well, I suppose that you could let the whole estate go to your cousin Arthur”, Holmes said slyly.

“I'll do it!”

۩۩۩۩V♔RI۩۩۩۩

Monday arrived with mixed news for our client. He felt a little more confident about the 'attack', and Holmes had arranged for a female actress to appear if needed, the woman bearing a passing resemblance to Mrs. Rainham-Woods. The idea would be that our client would mistakenly think that the judge's son was seeing his current girlfriend behind his back, hence the attack.

The bad news was that against all expectations Mrs. Eleanor Crossley, Sir Julius' sister, had obtained paid employment.

“Only as a hotel maid”, Sir George told us glumly. “That was all she could get, and according to a maid of hers she absolutely _hates_ it. But she is determined to stick it out.”

“I have decided that the attack should be tomorrow, by the way”, Holmes told him. “My sources tell me that Mr. Rainham-Woods is always seen off at the door by his wife every morning. This particular morning you happened to be out for a walk and saw them. Enraged, you dash into a nearby bakery to set about your revenge. Fortunately young Mr. Rainham-Woods is a barrister and he is in court tomorrow, so the effect will be maximized.”

“Good!” our client said sourly. “I can almost taste that money!”

And I can almost see Holmes' bill, I thought sourly.

۩۩۩۩V♔RI۩۩۩۩

It was four weeks later and a very anxious Sir George Lewis was in the dock. Despite the attack and his subsequent capture, the past month had gone very ill for him. Against all expectations his cousin had managed to keep his mouth shut and his great-aunt to keep her employment for the required twenty-eight days. He was now the only potential beneficiary of the late Sir Julius' will who might still miss out, and he had to get exactly four weeks in fail. Five would now disqualify him as he would still be inside when the time ran out.

Judge Robertson Justice frowned down upon the figure in the dock before him.

“And you have nothing to say in your defence, you scoundrel?” he demanded.

“No, sir”, our client said.

“Hmph!” the judge said. “Well, fortunately for you I am in a lenient frame of mind today. Seven days. Take him down.”

Our client looked up in alarm.

“Seven days?” he said, horrified.

Holmes waved a piece of paper in the air for some reason. I did not know why, but when I saw our client react, I guessed that it must be some sort of signal.

“Well, it was worth it!” our client said. “Pompous young ass. And that tart of his, masquerading as my Flo.....”

_“What did you say?”_

I was reminded of the ancient god Zeus thundering his displeasure around the heavens. The judge looked absolutely furious!

“She was a tart!” our client said robustly. “Anyone could see that. God alone knows what sort of family she comes from....”

“God may not, but I certainly do!” the judge roared. “Twenty-one days!”

“Is that it?” our client yawned. “I would have thought tarts like her merited at least four weeks.”

“Fine, you can rot for twenty-eight days!” the judge all but yelled. “Now take him down before I come over there myself!”

۩۩۩۩V♔RI۩۩۩۩

Before we left Holmes pointed out the three rival candidates to our client's ambitions. The large if not formidable lady was Mrs. Eleanor Crossley, recently a maid for all her sins, the snooty looking dark-haired fellow (a pony-tail, really?) next to him was Mr. Daniel Rotherby, and the snide looking young man at the end was Mr. Arthur Hammerford.

“I find it a miracle that any hotel would employ her”, I said idly.

The silence that followed was far too marked. I stared suspiciously at my friend.

“Just how _did_ she find a place at a hotel?” I asked.

“Remember you had those two clients out in rural Middlesex just after Mr. Damery's visit?” he asked.

I did, though I did not see the relevance. I would normally never have travelled that far for a patient, but these had been cousins of the main sponsors of our practice, and so I had spent most of a wasted day treating what had basically been two sore throats. There may or may not have been some unnecessarily expensive pastilles proscribed for the 'sufferers'.

“Yes”, I said. “What of it?”

“I went round to all three of them and offered my services”, he explained. “I said that since Sir George had approached me – or the family lawyer had – I felt that it only fair that they should be offered the chance to use my talents as well.”

“And you helped them all?” I asked dubiously. “Is that not going against our client's interests?”

“Oh, they all of them asked as to how they might stop the others from qualifying”, Holmes chuckled. “So predictable, some people! But in the light of Sir Julius' will, I decided that it was for the best that all of them got what was coming to them.”

I shook my head at him. He was a devious bastard!

۩۩۩۩V♔RI۩۩۩۩

It was just over a month later and we were attending the final reading of Sir Julius Hammerford's will. He had directed that it be done in public, to the visible annoyance of the four beneficiaries, and there was a small crowd gathered for the occasion. I did not like to think how the beneficiaries would have reacted if they had known that Holmes had been working for each and every one of them.

“I wonder why none of them thought to challenge the will?” I said, as Mr. Damery moved to his seat. 

“Sir Julius inserted what they call a 'challenge clause'”, Holmes explained. “If any of the beneficiaries contested it and lost, then they would forfeit any entitlement. He was a far-sighted gentleman, was he not?”

“Not far-sighted enough to prevent at least one of his beneficiaries from seeking outside help”, I retorted.

He smiled knowingly.

“He rather was”, he said. “Another clause in the will stated that the beneficiaries would lose their entitlement if they had any moneys owing at the time the final will was read. And that included bills for using outside help.”

And the smug bastard promptly waved four cheques in my face. He had got four lots of pay out of one case, damn him! Fortunately Mr. Damery chose that moment to start the reading.

“As you may know”, the lawyer said, peering at us over the top of his round spectacles, “Sir Julius Hammerford divided his estate on his death. Part was to be placed in a trust find and the income from it given to his wife if she survived him, which she did. Upon Lady Hammerford's death, the capital in that fund was to be divided equally between the Bishop of Hexham and the Northumberland Police Widows and Orphans Fund.'” 

There were some scowls from the assembled beneficiaries, but they were clearly intent on just how much each of them was going to get. The lawyer smiled.

“Sir Julius also placed aside a set amount for four of his relatives; his grandson Sir George Lewis, his grandson Mr. Daniel Rotherby, his sister Mrs. Eleanor Crossley, and his nephew Mr. Arthur Hammerford.” He paused, and I had the distinct impression that he was milking the moment somewhat. “You all know that certain conditions had to be met by each beneficiary, and I can confirm that each of the aforementioned people did indeed qualify for their share of the allotted funds.”

“How much do we get?” Mrs. Crossley demanded. Classy, I thought.

“Sir Julius left four envelopes, with an equal amount in each”, the lawyer said. “He wished also that that amount be made public. In sum total it is.... one penny.” He paused, quite unnecessarily in my opinion, before adding waspishly, “to be shared equally amongst you all.”

I know that it is a cliché but you really could have heard a pin drop. There was nearly a minute of silence before Mr. Arthur Hammerford found his voice.

“This is impossible!” he yelled. “Where is all the damn money?”

The lawyer winced at his loud tone.

“I am afraid that Sir Julius arranged matters so that the bulk of his funds were in the trust for his widow, and to be passed on to the stated beneficiaries upon her death”, he said. “You will have, of course, to sign for your 'inheritances'.”

He was dangerously close to smug, I thought. But given the poor examples of humanity – who had been played for fools, and were now arguing bitterly amongst themselves – I supposed that he was just about justified in his attitude. I myself would of course have refrained from open gloating.

Why was Holmes shaking his head like that?

۩۩۩۩V♔RI۩۩۩۩


End file.
